The New Year.

I've long since stopped writing lists of resolutions (stop biting your nails, lose some weight, read more, do more, be more...) because I am trying to stop measuring myself up against ideals I can't achieve. I am slowly (very slowly) coming to terms with the fact that yes, I am in fact human, and yes, that means I'm fallible.

However much I may wish I were superwoman, the sad truth is that I can't reach every goal and tick off every point on my to do list whilst keeping a hold on my health and my sanity (and let's face it, I won't get so far with those to-do's if I've lost it - from experience). I am guilty of aiming to high and then dropping it all in despair and I realise that gets me nowhere.

There are so many things I want to achieve though and although I am being careful, to a point, with how gentle I am with myself I do know that I am by nature a procrastinator. So how do I go about achieving what is possible and healthy? How do I know what to aim for and how much to push myself? I don't think I can come to a conclusion on this (if anyone has any answers, I would be glad to hear them..!) and I suppose it is trial and error.

I used to a party on New Year's Eve every year as a child and I remember vividly this ritual we would go through every year: each of us would write out something we wanted to welcome into our lives in the coming year and something we wanted to say goodbye to. The welcomed wish was sent off in a balloon; what we wished to lose was burned in a bonfire. I am trying to simplify how I'm feeling to these two points but I can't - honestly, for me, tomorrow evening at midnight nothing special will happen. I won't change. My motivations, desires, hopes; none of that will change. A minute will pass. A new day will begin.

I will use this time though to look back and to look forward. What am I bringing with me and what will I leave behind? Where do I want to be; what do I want to be saying, this time next year?

This year I have gained back weight (a lot of it), a belief that I can get out of that kind of madness (I am by no means where I want to be with that, but I see the light at the end of the tunnel). I have lost inches and inches of hair. I have gained new friends, new loves, new interests, new obsessions. I am changed and I am the same. My plans have changed over and over and will change again.

I am looking forward into this new year with hope and with the belief that if sure of nothing else I can be sure of the fact that things will keep on changing. I will sit and think, keep going, and wait for Spring.

"Let everything happen to you.
Beauty and terror.
Just keep going.
No feeling is final."
-Rainer Maria Rilke-

What does Winter/December mean to you?

BFW Advent Calendar - December 3rd

Josephine Broekhuizen

I am looking forward to this Christmas. That may not sound like much, but it is significant to me.

For a long time, Winter has been synonymous for me with grey days, depression, loneliness, anxiety... December meant the anxiety of meals with the family, social occasions I couldn't handle, panic over the sheer volume of food in the house when the infamous 'Christmas shop' arrived... It depressed me that these things, designed to be a pleasure, a celebration, were such a stressful experience for me.

I am looking forward to this Christmas because this is the most stable I have been at this time of year for a long, long time.

I plan on keeping down my Christmas dinner. I am opening my advent calendar (on the odd days, I am sharing!) with the innocent excitement I have been without for too long. I have been at a stable weight for seven months now, in the healthy range, and I no longer have to use baggy clothes to cover up. I am living on my own, and I have the power to decide when to see my family and my friends. I can decide - without guilt - when I feel safe enough to see my parents. My relationship with them is all the better for it.

I am looking forward to waking up with my mum on Christmas day. I am looking forward to giving my friends and family their gifts, because giving gifts is something that gives me a huge amount of joy. I am so thankful, now, for the love of the people around me. I have so many beautiful people in my life. Winter is coming to mean for me a time for rest. Not to hibernate, as I have edged towards, but to refresh myself with the pleasure of my own space, balanced with the company of those I love.

The cold is teaching me to nurture myself. To wear what is warm, to eat well, to give myself a hot water bottle. Things that would have seemed too difficult before - so many of us know how difficult it is to give a gift to ourselves. We are taught that Christmas means being selfless, but so often at the expense of our selves. To come to enjoy giving my time, my money and my energy to others at this time of year whilst knowing I am allowed to give myself the same energy is a wonderful gift.

This reflection is becoming a ramble. I realise I don't know what Winter means to me, not really, because so much has changed and is still constantly changing  in my life. This time of year is such a wonderful time to be around children, to be aware of that innocence and pure excitement that only they have. I am excited, though. I am excited to explore this time of year for myself, for what feels like the first time.

river papercut by fricktoria on Flickr.

I'm hoping to clear my head, here. Sat in bed with music in the background, my duvet round me, watching the streetlights flicker on one by one outside, I'm trying to remind myself what I'm holding on for, and why. To remind myself that it will happen.

I have always been uncomfortable with the word 'fighter' attached to me. When people tell me I'm fighting, I've been quick to correct them that I'm not, I'm not trying, I'm not being brave, taking no plunges. In the last couple of weeks, though, I've begun to see myself that way. Continually picking myself off the floor and trying to be kind, to be compassionate to myself and just fucking keeping going is the hardest fight I've ever come against. I am beginning to be proud of myself and to see myself as strong, when for me that has only ever been a word to describe other people.

I can get through this. I can get through this. It will get better; it will get better, if you keep going.
Constant mantras to myself.

I find it so hard to believe I'll ever be over Kate, and the thought is really terrifying. She is the closest friend I've had and honestly the only person I believe knows me completely. She is such an important part of my life, and I believe that is part of the problem. When we were together she was constantly acting as rescuer, me as victim; as a result I always needed her too badly. The fact I'm struggling with it so much now says more about that than about how much the relationship actually meant to each of us.

I know I can't rush this healing period and I have to allow myself to grieve but I resent it, I'm humiliated by my own weakness/vulnerability and I'm frustrated I can't make it happen quicker. I know now that I have it in me to heal myself but I'm impatient for it and frustrated with myself, and that is where the self-hatred slips in and the productive compassionate state gets drowned out. I am jealous and angry and I hate myself for that; I am sad and lonely and I hate myself for that, too.

What if it never happens? How do I go about finding someone who knows me and cares about me as much? How do I deal with this?

I have said a thousand times, I would give anything, anything, to be over this, and be able to be her friend. And maybe that desperation is telling of just how not ready I am to do that.

I wish I was ready to go to her exhibition today, to meet her friends and her potential-possible-kind-of-new-girlfriend and be happy for her. But I'm stuck alone at home. I am so profoundly lonely and I don't know how to fix that, except just to keep going, and keep trying, and keep reaching out to the love I still have in my life.

saying again

if you do not teach me I shall not learn

saying again there is a last

even of last times

last times of begging

last times of loving

of knowing not knowing pretending

a last even of last times of saying

if you do not love me I shall not be loved

if I do not love you I shall not love

("Cascando" - Samuel Beckett)

could be triggering (ED, SH, OD)

I've been avoiding blogging mainly because I don't have the energy, and also because I don't want to moan. I like having a positive spin at the end of my posts, but to be honest I'm finding it hard to see the silver lining at the minute. My last post is a fairly good example.

I feel completely dropped by the NHS. I have doctors appointments every two weeks, which is good, and my GP is great and has done all she can for me, but that seems to be very little. My mum has offered to pay for half for sessions with this therapist who has a few very cut rate places for people in need, so we can pay about a quarter of the price of a normal session between us (as in, I'm paying an eighth). I feel lucky to be offered this but incredibly, incredibly guilty. So guilty I don't know if I can go through with it. If I didn't feel so terrible and hopeless about the situation with the NHS counselling (I might be offered counselling with ED services in September) I wouldn't even be considering this. It doesn't seem fair on people who have even less money than me, or who haven't been able to find such a generous offer. I feel for everyone on the waiting list, especially because I truly believe everyone must be iller than me.

I am not beginning to believe that I might just be given up on. The NHS provides 25 (?) sessions max, and after that you rejoin the waiting list (which for me has been a year and a half). This situation is awful and it is terrifying, because for the first time I've felt like asking for help, as hard as it is, might not get me anywhere after all. I do want to get better. I'm fighting as hard as I can, but I can't do it alone; I've been trying for 7 years now and it's only getting harder.

I am really slipping. My ED symptoms are awful. My depression is so bad I haven't had a bath in over a month. That's disgusting, but I'm putting it out there to explain, because I don't have the words. I haven't brushed my hair in over a week. Getting up the energy to make a drink takes hours. My clothes get changed when necessary - generally once or twice a week, and I usually don't bother changing into pyjamas. I am trying to get out of the house every now and again, and I am achieving that actually. I've been to all of my useless appointments, been out to see a friend, been to Kate's a few times and to the bank, and I even went out one night without it being too much of a disaster - although I did end up self-harming, overdosing, drinking too much - compared to when I went out in Liverpool and was a total mess. I am actually going to work, and I can get through the day, although I'm making a lot of mistakes.

I am shakily on my feet and I am doing what I can. However, I am definitely existing, rather than living. I barely think my own thoughts. I can't concentrate. I have no desire to do anything. Feelings, especially positive ones, are few and far between. I feel like my brain is melting, much of the time.

I have my little 'recovery folder' with my list of reasons to stay ill, and reasons to get better. The fact I've made that list I think is a positive. I'm trying to hold onto these things, these moments where I feel something like motivation.

I can't do this, I can't do this any more. I've had enough. I can't cope and I'm on my own.

Art Journalling

I've been doing a lot of art journalling recently - I've found that it has helped me to process some difficult emotions that at the time were too extreme to talk or even think about. I generally draw like this when I'm in a very animated state, either feeling extremely bad (feeling unable to speak, read, with very strong urges to hurt myself) or at the other end of the spectrum, feeling very excitable and sped up, talking too fast (I don't really know how to explain that). In both cases I think it helps me manage the emotions without causing damage. It gives me the same emotional release I got from self harm, is the best way to describe it. At the time I don't understand what I'm drawing or why, but when I look back at it later on it is interesting to see how what I've drawn is incredibly related to the struggles I'm going through and the particular thoughts I'm having which were previously too hard to think about.

Here are some recent pages from my journals :)

Don't read, might trigger

My girlfriend can't make her mind up as to whether we're going to break up or stay together.
I am just letting myself get comfortable.
Just beginning to let myself feel safe again, and then the carpet is pulled from under my feet.
I'm terrified. Our break-up was the worst two weeks of my life. I was intensely suicidal, constantly. Couldn't deal with the slightest thing. Was absolutely hopeless and I can safely say I have never felt that bad. I was so illogical, and I feel that slipping back now this unsteadiness, this fear is back. I message her something, I do something, and then I get back to myself and I think, who did that? Why did I say that? Why have you fucked things up, again?

Because I always do.
I'm destined to.
I've always been told that I can't do a fucking thing right and it's true.

I really, well and truly, hate myself. I've been slipping slightly this week and this has really made me take the plunge. I can't see the point in holding out much longer. ED voice is pretty constant, although in a way that makes me feel like a total failure. As if there's anything wrong with me, as if I'm ill. I'm just an attention-seeking fuck up who insists on ruining everyone else's lives as well as her own. Can't talk to anyone.